


dawn is born at midnight.

by reedus



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 1960s, Amnesia, Bisexual Rick Grimes, Cigarettes, Daryl Dixon & Glenn Rhee Friendship, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes Feels, Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes Smut, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Historical References, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mechanic Daryl Dixon, Multi, Past Lori Grimes/Rick Grimes, Past Rick Grimes/Shane Walsh, Period-Typical Homophobia, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rick Grimes Loves Daryl Dixon, Rick Grimes in Love, Slow Burn, Slow Burn Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, Slow Romance, Star-crossed, Student Rick Grimes, Triggers, Vietnam War, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24081250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reedus/pseuds/reedus
Summary: As the war in Vietnam worsens, as more and more men are being shipped halfway across the world to die, Rick Grimes finds himself infatuated with a man he met at a bar; Daryl Dixon. Being together helps both forget about the ongoing war, but reality soon finds them.Together they learn that people ignore truths for temporary happiness and that perhaps they were only ever meant to be star-crossed lovers.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Comments: 10
Kudos: 11





	dawn is born at midnight.

_A soul mate is like a best friend but more._

**Late Spring 1969.**

Though it was only the 5th of April, the red hot sun beat down on the city of Atlanta, making anything a struggle to do. The warm wind from the Gulf of Mexico pushed temperatures into the mid-twenties °C. Some people could handle the sweltering sun, but Rick Grimes was not one of those people. Stuffed into his small apartment he was forcing himself to study for the upcoming College finals. As he lived in a rather rough neighbourhood, he convinced himself to keep his windows shut; he didn't want any outside noise pollution distracting him from the thrilling tales of European history. _These damn Europeans have a ridiculously complicated history,_ Rick thought slamming his books shut as he finally had enough on why Napoleon ever thought that invading Russia was a clever idea. 

Rick threw open the fridge door, standing with his arms outstretched to allow the icy coolness travel over his body. After flicking on the square TV on the shining kitchen counter, he cautiously turns into the news channel, curious of what was happening around the country, and world, today. A beautiful woman was standing in front of a very large crowd of people.

"I'm reporting _live_ from New York City, where you can see behind me an estimated 300,000 people are protesting against the Vietnam War. We are well aware of the protests going on in San Francisco, Los Angeles and Washington D.C, among others, against the Vietnam War that are happening today too. I have been able to talk to some of the protesters and they have told me their reasons for marching today. One young woman said 'why risk the lives of American men in a war happening thousands miles away? Half of us don't believe in this war; let Vietnam be its own country.' An older man, the father of a young man drafted, expressed his beliefs by telling us that his 'son doesn't have to die fighting in a rich man's war.' These are some key issues that need to be addressed; _why_ are we sending our brave soldiers thousands miles away? Why are only those who cann _ot_ afford to go college being drafted? More to come from NYC, back to studio." The woman's face disappeared, the camera was now fixated on a man with teeth whiter than his shirt. 

Rick sighed heavily, running his fingers through his curly hair. He need to get out of his messy apartment, get away from the constant flowing news of troops dying in Vietnam, alone, afraid. But out in the sweltering heat wasn't that appealing to anyone, the air was humid and made your clothes stick to you and there wasn't even a tiny breeze blowing; it definitely was in Rick "top ten things to hate". But even still, with air so compact with water vapour, anything was better than the feeble attempt of creating a circulation of cool air that the electrical fan was trying to do. 

Switching off the fan and television before leaving, Rick slowly walked to the stairs thinking about where to go to cool down. Ice cream shops would be packed of squealing children and sweaty adults, the parks would even be worse and all shade would be taken up by families and students alike. Outside his apartment building was even worse than he expected; Rick's light clothes immediately stuck to his body as his skin became hotter and sweatier. Rick hurried down the street, desperate to get somewhere with good air conditioning. He nearly missed the opportunity of cool air as he walked briskly down the street, his eyes focused on the ground before him; it was only by chance that he looked up and into the window of a dimly lit pub with only a few people seated at the bar. Nearly empty meant that it was cool in there as it was rather spacious and even just standing at the door he could feel the cold air seep out from the crack in the door. Eager, Rick pushed the door open and entered the pub and was met with the curious glances of who he assumed were the regulars.

“Close over the door behind you, son,” A man with a strong Southern accent and pure white hair pulled back into a ponytail at the base of his neck stood behind the bar wiping a glass clean. Rick pushed the door close behind him, and cautiously walked up to the bar, seating himself at the end, a few seats away from the men already at the bar, but far enough away as to not invade their conversation.

“What’ll it be?” The bartender asked leaning against the counter.

Rick glanced behind the man at the bottles of alcohol lined up along the counter in front of the mirror. “Uh, rum and coke, thanks.” Rick’s accent was deep Southern and his voice was scratchy, which made him strong older than he was, not that he particularly cared. The bartender nodded and began making him his drink.

"What brings ya inta this dump?" A man with fading red hair sitting at the bar asked Rick. The bartender chuckled lightly, dropping three ice cubes into Rick’s drink before setting it down before him. Rick put his money into the bartenders hand and took an eager swig of the drink.

“It’s too hot, n’ver did well with heat.” Rick replied after swallowing his swig of alcohol.

The man at the bar nodded in agreement. “I know exactly how ya feel son; lived ‘ere my whole life and I still can’t stand that fuckin’ heat.” The other men laughed along with the man with the red hair. The men as the bar started laughing at each other’s expense as Rick picked up the news paper and began to flick through it. The main coverage was on the rising number of men being drafted for the war in Vietnam, with the latest birth dates drafted in a column alongside the article. Rick shuddered at the thought of his birthday being pulled out on television to inform him that the men born on that day, November 15th, were to report for duty. Grinding his teeth, Rick thought about how he would have to inform the army officers that he was in college, therefore allowing him to be excluded from the draft. Rick took a larger swig of his drink this time.

Rick asked the bartender for another of the same drink, this time a double. He sipped it, turning the page of the newspaper as the bar door swung open. Illuminated by the sunlight were two men shoving each other in a brotherly way. One was taller by a few inches, his face already showing signs of hard work, accompanied by a smear of motor oil on his forehead. His hair was light brown and cut quite close to his skull and stubble lined his jaw and chin. He looked like he held a lot of weight on his broad shoulders, but the smiled etched on his face said that he lived in the moment.

The man with him was something else. He was younger than the man that he accompanied, his face not yet as weary. His hair was dark brown that covered a section of his forehead and stuck out in random places. The facial hair that pronounced his jaw and chin was scratchy, and his cheekbones were high. A smirk played at his lips, his bright eyes dancing around the pub, settling on Rick. 

Rick's breathe hitched as the younger of the two men made his way towards the end of the bar, towards Rick. 

"Hershel," the older of the two said to the bartender. "A beer for me and another for the baby." The man cackled loudly, the other men at the bar joining it too. Hershel, the bartender, chuckled as he placed a pint glass full of foaming beer in front of the older man and then one in front of the younger, who had seated himself one bar stool away from Rick. The man's steel blue eyes never left Rick as he took a gulp of the beverage. 

"I've nev'r seen you 'ere before," The man said setting his drink on the counter. 

Rick nodded, "Needed to get outta the heat; ended up here." 

"That's unfortunate, sunshine," The man smirked at Rick and turned to Hershel. "No one should be forced inta Greene's. Ever. Shoulda just kept on walkin', there's a much nicer place a few blocks down." The men at the bar laughed and Hershel rolled his eyes. 

"Why do you keep comin' on in 'ere then, Daryl?" Hershel asked, leaning his lower back against the counter behind the bar.

"Open tab." Daryl chuckled. “Well sunshine,” Daryl faced Rick, smirking slightly, his deep blue eyes as wild as a fire. Daryl’s voice was deep and gravelly, and Rick found it utterly enticing. “What do you do?” There was a smell of oil and smoke off Daryl, scents which Rick would usually turn his nose up at someone who smelled like that but the man sitting beside him was not just anyone; Daryl was tall and muscular, his skin already tanned even though it was just Spring, with floppy and messy straight dark brown hair that tickled the nape of his neck, with a smile that falls slack, lopsided and careless. Rick realised that the man was waiting for an answer as Daryl took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lazily put one in his mouth, but he never took his eyes off Rick.

Rick swallowed, “I’m a student. In university. I’m doing my masters. In history.” Rick mentally cringed as he fumbled out a response to the man sitting beside him.

Daryl’s smile grew wider, “History, huh?” Daryl shoved his hands into each of the pockets in his jeans, searching for a lighter, his brow furrowed in confusion. Rick gingerly took his own lighter from his jeans pocket, and held it out to Daryl, with a genuine smile playing on his lips. Daryl grinned as he eagerly took the lighter from Rick’s outstretched hand. Rick’s heart jumped as Daryl’s rough fingers brushed over his, and he was sure there was a blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, which made him cringe at himself even harder.

"Yah, it's nothing amazing or nothing," Rick shrugged, eager to keep talking to Daryl.

"We're livin’ during history sunshine, with the war and all that shit. It's pretty fucking amazing in my opinion," Daryl said taking a drag of his cigarette and staring deeply into Rick's eyes.

"Rick." Daryl tilted his head in confusion. "My name is Rick Grimes." Rick smiled, his hand outstretched. Daryl took Rick's hand in his own; one worn and rough, the other relatively soft yet bony.  
  
"Well su- Rick," Daryl laughed at himself. "I'm Daryl Dixon." Both man smiled widely at each other.

They continued their conversation late into the evening, asking one another questions about their lives, with the occasional discussion on the war as it was an ever looming threat in the background, which with one misfortune would spiral out of control. They both hoped they wouldn't be drafted, if only they were so lucky.

**Author's Note:**

> hi all! thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed and please let me know if you want me to continue this! also any feedback is greatly appreciated! x


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